


"Bastard"

by itsnotlove



Series: Happy Birthday [2]
Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Birthday, Confusion, M/M, Written in real time, part two!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2018-06-06 08:51:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6747256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsnotlove/pseuds/itsnotlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3872287">Part one found here</a>
</p><p> </p><p>It's been an entire year since Shizuo and Izaya kissed, and Izaya has been missing ever since. Now that it's his birthday again, Shizuo decides to try and find him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

No one ever celebrated the fact that Orihara Izaya was born.

This is something that seemed obvious to Shizuo, given the louses reputation and penchant for shit stirring. Maybe there’d be some sucker out there who gave Izaya birthday presents on the fifteenth of June or some other made up date, but that didn’t really count, right? If the gift wasn’t even given on the right day, then it wasn’t the same.

This was something that Shizuo had pondered ever since high school. 

Unfortunately for Shizuo, during his first year at Raijin, he’d been forced to share quite a few classes with Izaya. Roll call at Raijin had been ordered according to student birthdays, which wasn’t entirely unusual. It was rare for someone to dislike their birthday enough to hide it, and it wasn’t as though it were a bizarre practice. 

What _was_ strange was that Izaya’s birthday seemed to change depending on which class he was in. In the morning, it seemed to be sometime in January, but in the class just after lunch, it seemed to be some time in November. 

Shizuo picked up on the discrepancy (for reasons that are still unclear to him), but chose not to mention it or ask about it. What was it to him, anyway? He cursed Izaya’s existence everyday, so it wasn’t like he needed to dedicate one day out the the year for extra, over full strength, extreme cursing. The only date Shizuo wanted to know was the one when Izaya would die so that he could pre-order a cake to celebrate.

Shinra, on the other hand, had decided that Shizuo must have a burning desire to know when Izaya was born. He’d come to Shizuo in the library, plonking himself down in the chair beside him as the blond innocently mumbled to the desk. Even if, by some  _ miracle,  _ Shizuo had been mumbling random dates to himself, it wouldn’t have necessarily meant that he was trying to find some pattern for Izaya’s birthday.

 

The fact that Shinra, the idiot, had asked him so happily if he was wondering when Izaya’s birthday was pissed Shizuo off almost enough for him to ignore the voice in the back of his head (Kasuka’s voice) telling him he wasn’t allowed to throw Shinra into the ceiling whilst in the library.

 

It was too bad, as the filthy look and grumbled warning that Shizuo gave Shinra fell upon deaf ears. Shinra just laughed and continued, managing to get out a “ _ It’s today, _ ” before Shizuo’s hand slapped across his mouth and sent him flying into the bookshelves (which then fell into another set of bookshelves).

 

By the time Shinira had decided that he hadn’t broken anything and yelled to Shizuo, the latter had already disappeared. It was strange timing, given that Izaya wandered into the library looking for Shizuo not two minutes later- or so Shizuo had later heard, as he’d already disappeared home for the day.

 

_ “I wonder if you’d kill yourself for letting me take your first kiss?” _

 

The memory of Izaya’s voice ripped Shizuo from his thoughts violently, causing him to literally jump as though the informant were right beside him. Though it had been true that Izaya had,  _ technically,  _ been Shizuo’s first and only kiss, last year hadn’t been the first time for Shizuo. Not that Izaya would know that, of course.

 

After taking his frustrations out on the now burned out cigarette between his fingers, Shizuo leaned his shoulder against the wall and closed his eyes. Even though an entire year had passed, he still felt as though he hadn’t had enough time to really understand what it is that had happened between them.

 

_ “Unpredictable as always, Shizuo.” _

 

_ “Yeah...” _

 

_ “I’ll see you next year.” _

 

That  _ bastard.  _

 

Kissing him.

 

Or letting himself be kissed by Shizuo.

 

It didn’t matter which, not when he was a  _ bastard  _ who  _ left for an entire fucking year. _

 

After everything that had happened, the prick had just vanished into thin air, leaving Shizuo with thoughts he couldn’t understand, and a pain in his chest that wouldn’t go away. No matter how hard Shizuo looked (whilst convincing himself that he  _ wasn’t  _ looking), he couldn’t find Izaya anywhere. He didn’t even feel as though he were being watched anymore. The taste of Izaya’s lips that lingered on his own seemed to stick around for longer than the louse had.

 

“Bastard.”

 

He’d just… disappeared, for  _ three hundred and sixty seven days,  _ without so much as a gang of punks trying their luck with Shizuo based on Izaya’s word.

 

Shizuo had tried to be smart about it all and narrowed his search for Izaya down to specific days. He searched for him on his birthday, thinking that Izaya might want revenge of some sort, then again on Valentine’s Day, in case he might appear for his sister’s birthday (which he learned was on Valentine’s Day after knocking on their door in search of Izaya on the day), but had no luck. He tried again on White Day, then any day that he had the feeling that  _ maybe  _ Izaya would be around.

 

But he never was, and now it was the idiot’s birthday and he  _ still wasn’t around. _

 

Shizuo knew this, because he’d left his apartment on the Fourth of May for the first time since Middle School and had actively searched for Izaya. Finding Izaya had nearly become an obsession, despite the fact that Shizuo didn’t know what he’d do should he find him. All he knew was that he had to keep looking, keep searching, and  _ find him. _

 

However, after searching from early morning until late evening, Shizuo decided to go home. Izaya hadn’t been in Shinjuku, nor was he in Ikebukuro, and the strange looks Shizuo was getting for asking about him were enough to send him half mad.

 

Pushing himself off the wall, he decided he’d try again tomorrow, even if it meant having to stake out Izaya’s apartment. He’d find him eventually, as he always did, so it wasn’t worth getting annoyed over. The best thing he could do right now was to go home, get changed, and chain smoke until he fell asleep. 

 

He was far tireder than he realised anyway, which was probably why he didn’t notice that his door had been kicked open then wedged shut. As he moved through his apartment, shedding his clothes as he made his way to his bed, he kept his eyes on the floor and mumbled about shitty flea’s disappearing for shitty reasons. He picked up his bed clothes, which were sitting on the end of his bed rather than in a heap on the floor where he’d left them, and pulled them on quickly. 

 

His eyes were already half lidded by the time his tee shirt slipped over his head, and he decided to forgo the chain smoking in favour of a long sleep. Flopping onto his bed, he curled up on top of the covers and closed his eyes. He felt calmer than he had in a long time, as though all of his stress had suddenly been lifted from his shoulders, and fell asleep almost instantly. 

 

As Shizuo’s chest slowly rose and fell, the informant standing next to the bedroom door wore a puzzled expression. 

 

Had Shizuo, the man with the instincts of a beast, really just… walked past him? Had he not noticed the broken door, or the lewd drawing he’d left for him on the wall? Or the fur trimmed coat on the kitchen counter, or the clothes on the end of his bed? Did Shizuo really just spend a day out in Ikebukuro, doing God knows what, just to come home, walk past his mortal enemy, and  _ fall asleep? _

 

“What the fuck, Shizu-chan.”

 

The words might have been uncharacteristic, but Izaya was rightfully confused. Shizuo had always been able to sense him for god only knows what reason, and yet here he was, falling asleep as though he were the most relaxed person on the face of the planet. 

 

Had a year without Izaya really made him so… stupid? 

 

It had been a year since they’d seen each other, and now Shizuo was some sort of idiot who didn’t even have instincts? That isn’t to say that he wasn’t an idiot before, but his instincts had always made him a force to be reckoned with. 

 

Was his life really this peaceful without Izaya in it?

 

Izaya’s eyes narrowed at the thought, and he found himself stalking over to where Shizuo was sleeping. If Shizuo were going to be this…  _ this way _ , then it was only fair that Izaya ruin it, right? As he loomed over the man sleeping below, a cruel smile found its way to Izaya’s lips.

 

“I could kill you right now.” 

 

He wouldn’t, but he could and that was the important thing. Izaya had the ability to destroy Shizuo’s life, and he had the ability to end his life, but that didn’t mean he would. Not yet, anyway, when there were still so many unanswered questions. 

 

Though this wasn’t the first time he’d seen Shizuo asleep, he couldn’t say that the feeling was overly familiar. Shizuo just looked so totally different like this, with his features at rest instead of twisted into a scowl, and strands of hair framing his face.

 

“I hate you.”

 

Whatever expression Izaya wore was thankfully something no one else would ever see, and after several long seconds spent staring at Shizuo, he sighed heavily. If Shizuo were this stupid, or he were this indifferent, then it would only be reasonable for Izaya to push him a little. Shizuo had always been unpredictable and dangerous, and Izaya honestly didn’t know what would happen if the beast were to wake up to someone in his bed. 

 

It would be interesting, wouldn’t it? Izaya would be risking his life, but Shizuo’s look of indignation and rage would be worth it.

 

That is what Izaya told himself as he set his phone on the floor and climbed into the bed next to Shizuo. He rolled to his side, attempting to get comfortable in a bed that seemed to make that impossible, and faced Shizuo. As strange as it was, he didn’t feel all that repulsed to be in a bed with this monster. After spending a year moving from place to place, it suddenly felt almost as if he slept in months.

 

The idea that he might actually fall asleep beside Shizuo was frightening, and something that he hadn’t counted on. To have Shizuo wake up next to him was one thing, but to wake up next to Shizuo?

 

A strange feeling nearly overwhelmed him, and Izaya made to roll off the bed just as something solid caught him round the waist. He’d managed to roll so that he was no longer facing Shizuo, but it now felt as though a slab of concrete was pushing his back against Shizuo’s chest. Looking down, he saw the slender arm that had caught him and felt as a nose nuzzled into the back of his neck.

 

“Shizu-chan?”

 

The only response he received was a long, sleepy sigh.

 

“Are you going to kill me on my birthday, Shizu-chan?”

 

_ “I fucking hate you. I wish you were never born and that your parents had never met.” _

 

The memory of Shizuo’s voice sent a shockwave throughout Izaya’s body, and he resigned himself to this fate. If he were lucky, Shizuo would release him once they woke up and they could write this off as bullying. If he were unlucky, well… death might be the least of his problems.

 

“Good night, Shizuo.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short (at only 1k or so) and actually serves to connect the previous chapter and the next (and final) chapter. Given how this story is written, it didn't seem right to have more than one scene per chapter.
> 
> So! The next chapter is the final one. <3

It had been four days since Izaya’s birthday, and Shizuo still hadn’t been able to track him down. 

 

The day after his failed search, he’d woken up with a smile and rolled over as his arm instinctively reached out. Izaya was there, cuddled up next to him with a strange look on his face, and Shizuo couldn’t help but want to bring him closer.

 

Unfortunately, his arm only managed to grope at the empty bed beside him, and his eyes slowly crept open. 

 

Shizuo was alone. There was no one there, let alone  _ Izaya _ , and the sinking feeling at that realisation was caused by disgust at what must have been a dream, rather than disappointment. 

 

When he rolled away from the empty side of the bed and hugged a pillow so tightly that it burst, it wasn’t out of loneliness. It must have been anger, because it was  _ always  _ anger, and the promise he made to track down Izaya was  _ only  _ because he needed to make sure that the louse wasn’t fucking around too much. 

 

The only problem was that Shizuo had no idea where else to look. He’d searched everywhere dozens of times by now, and the closest he ever came to finding the louse was when he was asleep.

 

He was plagued by strange dreams, full of warmth, kindness, and insults, which left him feeling bizarre and confused every morning. They seemed to escalate each night as well, and as much as he tried to hate them, he couldn’t quite bring himself to do that anymore.

 

It was far too much for him to process, and it was starting to become obvious to everyone around him that something wasn’t quite right. Tom had asked him why he seemed so relaxed lately, even going so far as to wonder out aloud if Shizuo had found a girlfriend.

 

Shizuo had stopped walking, shaking his head vigorously from left to right, before asking if Tom was fine walking back to the office by himself. Tom gave him a strange look, followed by a knowing one, and sent Shizuo on his way.

 

Which is how he’d wound up standing at the front of Russia Sushi with Simon, who was being suspiciously quiet.

 

“Simon...” He asked finally as he fiddled with his lighter. “Do you ever have dreams? About women, I mean.”

 

“Shi-zu-o, are you going through your puberty again?” Simon laughed happily, though he couldn’t say he minded being asked. 

 

“No.”

 

“Dreams are good. Dreams show you what you want.”

 

“...”

 

“Dream sexy of sushi-”

 

“Oi! They aren’t  _ sex dreams! _ ” Shizuo replied in an urgent whisper, looking around to see if anyone had heard them. Simon smiled knowingly, remembering the conversation he and Denis had been a part of earlier, and waited for Shizuo to elaborate.

 

“They’re… other dreams.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“H-She… does weird stuff...”

 

“...Shi-zu-o, will she scare customers?”

 

“Yeah! She scares me!”

 

Simon nodded and placed a heavy hand on Shizuo’s shoulder, motioning for bodyguard to follow him inside. He guided Shizuo to the bar, where they each took a seat as Denis eyed them from the other side. 

 

“What does scary dream lady do?”

 

Shizuo’s face scrunched up into a scowl, but soon fell into something a little more helpless. “She… hugs me.”

 

Simon waited patiently for the other shoe to drop, but when Shizuo didn’t say anything more, he decided to prompt him. “Does she stab hug?”

 

“No, she… she just hugs me. But when I wake up, she’s gone.”

 

“That sounds nice, not scary.”

 

“No! It  _ is  _ scary! It’d scare anyone!” Shizuo implored, his head falling to hit the countertop where it left a small dent. “That’s not everything either!”

 

“...”

  
  


“She… He tucks me in! Before I wake up!”

 

“Like a sushi roll?”

 

“Like a sushi roll! Every night!” Shizuo grumbled, “Then he says shit like “Don’t forget I hate you, Shizu-chan!” What the fuck?”

 

Simon nodded, then shot Denis a meaningful look before the latter shook his head tiredly. How long was this going to go on for?

 

“Shi-zu-o, are you sure it’s just dream? Not really happen?”

 

“Yeah, I’d know if it were real. I’d be able to smell that bastard if it were real.”

 

“Shizuo, are you sure?” Simon asked again quietly and he petted Shizuo’s shoulder to calm him down. “Go home. Check.”

 

Shizuo looked up in time to see a takeout bag placed on the counter in front of him by a sympathetic Denis. “On the house. Go check, Shizuo.”

 

Looking back and forth between the Russians, Shizuo felt totally helpless. He picked the bag up as he stood, then left the restaurant without another word. The two Russians watched as he left, careful to stay quiet until Shizuo was out the door. 

 

“ _ The Informant hugs him? _ ” Simon asked in Russian, careful not to say Izaya’s name lest someone overhear. “ _ And doesn’t stab him? Or cut him? _ ”

 

“ _ It looks like they’re both lying. _ ” Denis replied, shaking his head as he wiped the counter where Shizuo’s face had been. “ _ He’s there now. _ ”

 

“ _ Did you put in his order? _ ”

 

“ _ Yes. We can add both to his tab. _ ”

 

Both Simon and Denis chuckled, and hoped the two children would sort themselves out. Neither minded that Shizuo and Izaya decided to confide in them (and were in fact quite flattered), but if they didn’t speak to each other then there was no telling what would happen. 

 

Not to mention how much they’d both hated having to lie to Shizuo over the last year about Izaya’s whereabouts. Though they’d never been outright  _ asked  _ where the information broker was, it was obvious that Shizuo was looking for him. It was just as difficult to lie to Izaya about whether or not Shizuo was looking for him, but then again, he’d never outright asked either.

 

“ _ If they don’t talk, I’m locking them in a room together. _ ”

 

“ _ There isn’t a room strong enough, Seymon. _ ”

 

“ _ Maybe the Informant will wrap the Blond up like a sushi roll again, then he won’t be able to break their way out. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next (and final) chapter of this part will be up later today ;)))) If you spotted a typo, let me know! Thank you for reading! <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last update, over a year late. Thanks for reading!

By the time Shizuo had arrived at his unit, two things were apparent:

The first was that both Simon and Denis—though respectable men who usually gave brilliant advice—were absolutely useless. Neither of them knew anything about anything, and Shizuo would not be seeking their advice in the future.

The second was that Shizuo had started to—for lack of a better word—crave Izaya. He’d noticed it over the last year, but hadn’t been able to put his finger on it. The yearning for something particular and the inability to sate his thirst. He’d tried chainsmoking (until Tom had told him, in the kindest possible way, that debtors could smell him coming from four blocks away), tried eating and drinking all sorts of food (when he remembered to eat, at least), but nothing ever worked. The craving had still been there eating away at his sanity.

The realisation should have been surprising, but the relief of finally having a name for it was almost overwhelming. It gave Shizuo an excuse to find Izaya (because obviously, the craving was an early warning for something shitty Izaya was doing, and Shizuo needed to stop it), and some meaning and direction.

By the time he’d entered his unit, he was already lost in his own thoughts. He was making lists of things to pack, people to tell, and money to scrounge together. If he had to search all of Japan twice for the flea, he’d do it.

For the good of society.

Absolutely no other reason.

He walked straight to his bed without taking his shoes off and picked up the backpack he’d kept from his schooldays. The bedroom wasn’t large enough to store very much, so it sat neglected at the end of his futon.

Thankfully, Shizuo didn’t have very much to pack (three days worth of clothes was enough), and it only took seconds for him to finish. He slung the backpack over one shoulder and stormed out of the bedroom, then out of the unit as he slammed the door behind him.

It was only when Shizuo was halfway down the stairs and pulling his backpack onto both his shoulders that he noticed the knife sticking out of his back.

“What…?”

Had that happened during the day? Shizuo couldn’t remember any particularly violent altercations, and surely he’d have noticed someone stabbing him. Besides, there wasn’t anyone who could get close enough to stab him without him noticing. The only way a knife could have lodged itself into his back was if it had been thrown.

But when?!

If it had been before he’d visited Russia Sushi, would Simon and Denis have pointed it out? They would have, surely. If not, then Tom would have mentioned it.

Had it been on the way home? No, Shizuo would have smelled the bastard a mile away. Which meant…

Shizuo turned toward his unit and, for the first time, actually looked at it. His front door was open, swinging gently on its hinges, and a rather lewd drawing of a penis in a bartender’s uniform was carved into the wall beside it.

Those hadn’t been there before. Or… just how long had it been since Shizuo had noticed anything about his own home?

Was it possible he’d missed something?

He felt like an idiot for even thinking of going back—there’d be no one in there, and if Izaya was in there then he wouldn’t keep quiet, right?—but slowly ascended back up the stairs. While he might have been the Fighting Doll, he felt like a child as carefully stepped back to his unit.

His hand trembled as he pushed the door open, and he squeezed it into a fist a second later. Obviously, he was furious and his body was literally shaking with it. Even if he didn’t feel particularly angry, that was the only explanation.

“Welcome home, Shizu-chan.” 

There, next to Shizuo’s bedroom, stood Izaya. The blade he was barely holding was out in front of him, and his legs were just far enough apart that Shizuo knew he was preparing for a fight. Izaya’s usual smirk had been replaced with something resembling frustration, which was more curious than anything else.

For a moment, Shizuo only stared. His face felt hot and, after a good forty or so seconds of staring, he was forced to loosen his bowtie. Izaya’s eyebrows rose in silent question, but neither of them spoke.

The backpack Shizuo was shouldering dropped to the floor, but it went unnoticed.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Izaya asked as he drew circles in the air with the tip of his knife. “Or have you lost the ability to speak? Have you finally stopped pretending to be human?”

“Have you been...” Shizuo cleared his throat. “I hate you.”

“The feeling is mutual.” Izaya said, then made a thoughtful noise. “Do you know what that means? Or is that too difficult a concept for your three braincells to grasp?”

“Is it?”

“I’d say it is. Does Shizu-chan need an explanation?”

Shizuo shook his head. He hadn’t known what he meant by that question, but it certainly wasn’t whatever Izaya thought it was. “I hate you.” 

“So you’ve said.” Izaya dropped his hand with an exaggerated sigh. “If you’re going to repeat yourself I’ll get bored.”

Shizuo crossed half the distance to Izaya, who held his hand back out immediately. 

“Have you forgotten? You’re meant to pick up the couch.”

“I like this couch.”

Izaya’s face contorted in confusion for a fraction of a second. Had Shizuo gone mad? Since when did he talk like this?

Shizuo took another step forward and Izaya tightened his grip.

“How long have you been here?”

“I’m always here, Shizu-chan.”

“In my house?”

“This is a unit, not a house.”

“Izaya-kun—” Shizuo growled, but it lacked the usual viciousness. “How long?”

“Have you been dreaming about me, Shizu-chan?” Izaya asked as he closed the gap between himself and Shizuo. The tip of his knife pricked at Shizuo’s chest, but neither made a move. “Did you really think I’d come back on my birthday?”

“Yes.” Shizuo said. He spoke so quickly, he hadn’t the time to be embarrassed about it. “You did.”

“I didn’t.”

“You’re a liar, Izaya-kun.”

Izaya smiled with all his teeth. “What would you do if I said I’d been sleeping in your bed? Would you kill me, or would you rip off your own skin? Throw it out the window? Terrorise Japan like G—”

Before Shizuo could think or stop himself, he seized Izaya by his shoulders. Izaya’s eyes went wide in an almost comical way, but he made no move to escape. The blade of the knife between them bent, but Shizuo either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“It’s rude to sleep in another man’s bed, louse.” 

“Shizu-chan didn’t notice.” There was something distinctly childish in the way Izaya spoke, and he flushed in the ears at the realisation. “It’s no fun if you aren’t going to bother being conscious.”

“I should have killed you.” Shizuo said quietly. “For what you did.”

Izaya looked up at Shizuo, utterly confused until he remembered that conversation. Or, until he remembered it for the fifteenth time that day.

_ "I wonder if you’d kill yourself for letting me take your first kiss?” _   


“You’re meant to kill yourself, but if you’re confused then I can assi—” Whatever Izaya was saying (something even he wasn’t sure of) died in his throat as Shizuo pressed their lips together. The kiss was as chaste as it had been the year previous, only now it stretched on for what might have been an eternity.

The knife between them dropped to the floor as Izaya reached for Shizuo’s shirt—fisting it to drag him closer—as his other arm reached around Shizuo’s back to hold him closer. Shizuo’s hands were resting loosely on Izaya’s shoulders as if he were afraid to touch him with any real force, and the situation was so totally ridiculous that Izaya couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“What?!” Shizuo barked, though it was hard to understand him when his lips were still pressed against Izaya’s.

“Shizu-chan is a disgusting girl.” Izaya replied happily. “So gentle.”

“Shut up!” Shizuo said as he tried to pull away, but Izaya grabbed the handle of the knife still sticking out of his back and dragged him closer. It shouldn’t have worked at all, but Shizuo was too shell-shocked to protest. 

“Shizu-chan...” Izaya said as he raised himself onto his toes.

“What?” 

A thousand questions raced through Izaya’s head. He could ask if Shizuo really hadn’t noticed him, or if he’d looked for him. He could tell him about the plan he’d painstakingly crafted and subsequently seen fall apart because Shizuo hadn’t acted according to plan. He could slit Shizuo’s throat and watch him die.

“I’m tired.”

Shizuo squinted, then nodded once and shoved Izaya lightly backward. He stumbled backward and into the small room as Shizuo followed closely behind.

“Sushi roll...” Shizuo said, then shook his head when Izaya gave him a questioning look. “Sleep.”

“Sleep.” Izaya repeated. He was about to ask if Shizuo wanted the knife pulled out of his back, but decided it was too cutesy a thing to ask. Instead, he shrugged off his coat and let it land in a pile on the floor as Shizuo collapsed on the futon.

By the time Izaya had finished his very heated internal argument about what the fuck he was doing, he was sure Shizuo had fallen asleep. He sat tentatively on the edge of the bed, still debating whether or not he’d lost his mind, when the now-familiar pull around his waist dragged him toward Shizuo’s chest.

“No running off.” Shizuo mumbled. “Bastard.”

Izaya shrugged but didn’t pull away—he couldn’t remember the last time he had.

“Where were you going?” Izaya asked. “Were you running away from home?”

Shizuo’s arm tensed for a moment, then relaxed. “No where.”

“Hmm? Shizu-chan is a bad liar.”

“Shut up.” Shizuo buried his head in the crook of his own elbow. “Be a sushi roll.”

“A sushi—?” Izaya tried to ask before his face was smashed into Shizuo’s chest.

He smiled to himself, even though he was fairly certain his nose was bleeding, the fact Shizuo still had a knife stabbed into his back, and despite the situation being ridiculous. For the last year, this was all he’d dreamt of and he finally had it.

A chance to keep a closer eye on the beast and protect his humans, that is. 

“Izaya?” 

“Yes, Shizu-chan?” 

“...” Shizuo shifted. “Happy birthday, for before. I hope it’s your last.”

Izaya chuckled quietly.

“It’s mutual, Shizuo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is probably a bit anticlimactic but??????? it's done. Sorry you don't get to know where Izaya was (though I will say he was trying very hard to distract himself, which resulted in a lot of blood (not his), some explosions (...), and general nonsense that should have left him dead). Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
